Take me
by HamsterCastiel
Summary: First Sherlock story I ve written based on a roleplay.  Warnings for very dominant Sherlock! Kinks, toys, dirty talk.
1. Chapter 1

This was the fifth time John thought it was a bad idea. Sneaking into others apartment, looking for evidence, he didn´t even know what they were looking! Sherlock had pretty much dragged him there, and he was no one to say no to him. Sneaking around the flat, John was determined not to touch anything, because you never knew if they´d notice something was off once they would come back. Irritated he turned to Sherlock. "What exactly, are we searching?"

"We're not searching, we're testing." Sherlock's voice was a low hiss. "This man has to be more than a little aggressive when it comes to his paranoia. There's no doubt we're about to find us a booby-trap of some kind, but he's not brilliant or even clever enough to create the design himself. He works as a magician, but you just need a good slide of hand and a penchant for illusions. Magicians live in secrecy, but he needs a right hand man to help him create the illusion. So, his doctor is most likely the one who's staked out the entire house with...get down. Down!" There's a low hiss, and the sharp "ftiing!" of a dart, of several darts, hitting the wall just behind their heads, where they would have been had Sherlock not yanked John down to the ground.

John gasped as he hit the ground, Sherlock looming half over him as he tried to get his eyes focused on the darts. Close call. "Alright, I get your point." He said carefully getting up from the floor and dusting his clothes. "So his assistant did the murders...but how?" He asked even though he knew he would get one of Sherlocks why-do-i-bother looks. But not everyone had the brain like Sherlock.

Sherlock was perched on the floor like a cat, his eyes flicking around the room - loose hinges, piping unusual to the room, unusual to any structure like this. Pipes leading up, probably to an outdoor..."John...get back on the ground...and try not to breathe." Based on the structure of the room, there's a high probability that the gas is weight-triggered, and the two of them together will probably set it off within moments. "Spread yourself out." He's momentarily certain he's lead them both to their death.

John lifted his eyebrow in confusion, but did as he was told, spreading himself on the floor and looked around them. His eyes didn´t catch anything out of ordinary at first, until he found the gas pipes and frowned. "Gas...to intoxicate or to blow this place up.." he muttered to himself, glancing at Sherlock. Concluding from their position, he´d say the trap was pressure triggered. Perfect. He sighed trying to stay still. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Look for a door, a groove, anything. He's got to have a hideout here somewhere, where he can just pop out...oh...oh!" Even on the ground, it's a gleeful smile that crosses his face. "He's not clever at all...so much so that it is!" He starts skimming a hand across the floorboards, knocking softly. "Look for a hollow spot. He has a trapdoor here, why else would his victims say they saw something rise from hell? He's -" There's a dreadful hissing noise, and suddenly the tang of something in the air. He can almost taste the adrenaline suddenly radiating off the both of them, scanning the floor with lightning speed. "There," he hisses, pointing a meter behind John, a deep groove covered by the corner of the carpet. "Hold your breath."

John didn´t understand at all, so he just listened Sherlock rant..it wasn´t like he was paying much attention to him when he had once again realized something, happy in his own little world. It was when he heard the odd hiss that he realized that they had somehow triggered the gas, and it was slowly taking over the room. Not being one to panic, John did what Sherlock told him and took a deep breath, crawling next to him and noticing his gaze, looked over to the wall. That´s it. He thought and quickly made his way to the floor, pressing his palm on different spots until it flung open and he stumbled in the other room. No, not room. A small closet.

Sherlock slipped through the door frame before quickly shutting it, feeling John pressed firmly against his back. "May have a few moments before we have to move again," he said. "No doubt it's set off some kind of alarm for him." He turns, and presses close against John to make sure he's as far back against the wall as he can be, away from any traces of gas in the room. "Give me a moment, I have to think..."

"Wait, alarm? So the man and his buddy are coming here right now?" Sherlock shrugs and nods. "Probably. Gives us six, maybe seven minutes tops before we have to think of something." He shifts slightly, his chin pressed against John's cheekbone as he thinks. "You're warm," he comments. "Don't panic."

"Don´t panick?" John mimiced disbelieving. "Sherlock, in less than six minutes, our killers will come through that door and if they see us, they will not hesitate to kill us immediately. Oh god, this was not the way he thought he´d die. In a small closet with Sherlock Holmes.

"Let me see your left hand." It's an awkward state, but he can see from here. "Perfectly still. You're excited. You're not nervous." Sherlock gives him a look. "What are you thinking, John?"

"Oh, umm...it´s the war thing you know...danger excites me." John replied voice calm and steady, and he stopped every movement when he heard the front door bang open and two pairs of legs walking in. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for god sake that for once Sherlock would stay quiet so they wouldn´t get caught.

Sherlock presses himself closer, and his mouth unexpectedly grazes John's cheek, rather close to his mouth. "Don't...make...a sound," he whispers, and at that moment, his hips graze the front of John's and he feels something. Wow. Danger really did excite John.

John bit immediately down on his lips, keeping his eyes determined on the door. Oh god, oh god. This was so beyond embarrassing. He felt his cheeks heat up at the slight touch of lips and he let out a small, shuddering breath he hoped Sherlock didn´t notice. He could hear the men ranting, angry sounds in the room but they sounded distant to his ears.

"Last few minutes," Sherlock whispers. "There's...two, no three...no...two men, medium stature. If we hold our breath, take thirty seconds - they've disabled the traps by now, thinking it's a misfire...John?" He notices the furious blush in John's cheeks and tips his head down to look him in the eye. "You alright?"

"Fine, absolutely fine." John breathed out, glaring at the men through the cracks. "We better stay here until they leave. There´s no way I´m taking the risk we get caught and killed." John said quietly, leaning against the corner of the closet, trying to make him comfortable, not to touch Sherlock and his eyes fixed on something on the ground. He knew that if Sherlock would start to calculate and examine him now, he´d see everything. How he had fallen for his flat mate after the night Sherlock proved he didn´t need his cane, and kept it to himself. Sherlock was married to his work, as he said. "You better get comfortable, we´re going to be here a while."

"You're not comfortable, I can tell." Sherlock's eyes flicker down then back up, letting John know that yes, he's noticed. "Need me to turn around?"

"No, it´s okay. I´m fine." John said again, hunching a little to himself, ignoring the new flush that was caused by the fact that Sherlock had noticed his 'problem'.

"It's not the danger," Sherlock whispered, and now he was very close. "We've been in worse situations than this." He's so very very close, his thigh pressing gently between John's. "It's me."

John stifled a gasp, turning his head away ashamed at his body's reaction. "Sherlock, please...don´t.." He didn´t want Sherlock to do something just because he thought that he had to, now that he seemed to conclude it out. "I-it´s not you, I´m not thinking anything...it´s just the danger, you just hadn´t noticed it before."

"Mycroft was right." Sherlock's grin is positively sinful. "John...it'll be distracting for you to run with...this problem. Therefore, you need to take the edge off. Whatever that means." He sidles so his mouth is pressed to his ear. "Go ahead."

John licked his lips as he saw the devilish grin on Sherlocks face, and gasped at the sudden closeness, feeling a shiver run down his spine as the words were whispered in his ear. Surely he couldn´t mean..No, it´d be impossible. "Sherlock, I´m not sure what you´re implying. If I ignore it, it´ll go away." He nodded sternly, more to himself than to Sherlock.

"Don't know how much time we have, don't know how fast you can get rid of an erection while pressed up against me in tight quarters with my lips on your neck," Sherlock just about hisses in his ear, and now his hands are skimming along John's chest. "Just do what you need to." He begins a gentle sucking on his earlobe. "Whatever it is..."

John let out a small whine, quickly clamping his lips together firmly. He hated it when Sherlock was right, especially in a situation like this. This was weird, he felt dizzy from all the attention he suddenly got. God, he´d never live this down...So he slid a hand down his stomach, until he reached his crotch and squeezed it, his whole body shuddering with need and want. "Oh god, we- I should not do this. Not here, not when we can get caught in this closet." John reasoned, trying to keep his mind on right track.

"Won't get another chance. Might die here." Sherlock nipped at a sensitive spot just behind John's jaw, sucking hard. "Here, might help more." He reaches down and slides his hand into the soft crease between John's inner thigh and his groin and cups him through his jeans. "More stimulating?"

"Well that´s not helping." John muttered at the thought of being killed like this filled his head, only to realize what happened few seconds later, making his eyes shoot wide and he scrambled a purchase of Sherlocks scarf. "No, don´t. I mean it, not here-" He whispered silently, trying to swallow down a lump in his throat.

"Sshh," Sherlock whispered, "if you can't keep quiet..." Actually no, he didn't trust John to be quiet right there, so, in a very bold move, he crushes their mouths together, swallowing whatever sound John has to make, and promptly flips the button on John's trousers, feeling him through one less layer now. There's heat, and there's hardness and he's suddenly feeling a little warm as well, and the closeness with John is lovely.

John didn´t even have time to blink before there was a crushing pressure against his own lips, and it took him a second to realize what it was and oh holy god Sherlock was kissing him. He tried to pull his head away, but backed up against the wall and Sherlock, there wasn´t much space for him to move to. Then there was a hand in his jeans and he was pretty sure the world just turned upside down as his knees buckled and he slumped against Sherlocks chest with a small whimper.

Sherlock gives him a squeeze, an urgent message to be quiet, for God's sake, and can feel John's cock twitch in his briefs along his hand - this is just to keep them safe, but no...not it's more than that, it's the heat and the guts and the thrill of the chase, and oh god, now he knows why John is hard, there's such a rush to it, and there's a rush of feeling John's body pressed so close against his and now he's hard and wanting and gently urges John to thrust against his palm, rocking his own groin against John's right hip. It keeps them both on their feat, an accomplishment at this point, and John's slumping against his chest, and he manages to barely mouth in his ear, "Touch me," before going back to kissing him silent.

John bit down on his own lip to prevent any of those noises escaping. This felt so unreal, he was in a closet with Sherlock Holmes, there were murderers on the other side of the door...and they were having a wank. Talk about ironical. He was more surprised when he felt Sherlocks hard-on poke into his hip. Until this day, he had been sure Sherlock was asexual, not interested, nada. Then the plead reached his ear and he swallowed, lifting up a shaky hand and cupping him through the jeans, sighing against his mouth.

It's a delicious flux of sensation, and John so hard and hot in his hand, and he decides it's enough. He reaches up a little to maneuver his hand in and under the waistband of John's briefs and cups him fully, hot, sticky skin and the new film of sweat that's beginning to cover them both fully fanning the heat in his lower belly to full. He starts to stroke John, urging him to do the same, curling his tongue across the roof of his mouth.

Johns hips bucked forward, deeper into that palm and he swallowed down a moan that threatened to escape, instead focusing on nibbling at Sherlocks bottomlip as he carefully slid his hand inside his jeans, circling the hard-on few moment before moving inside his boxers, grabbing him firmly and starting to stroke at the same pace Sherlock was touching him.

It was all he could do not to moan, and Sherlock begins to jerk John off harder, needing to finish them both, circling the head of his cock with his thumb, thrusting his tongue in his mouth. They've got so little time, and he wishes this could last, but he's a rationalist, he knows it can't. He's been on a temperance break, he knows he won't last long, and John's practically writhing against him, it should be, any second now, but God, he just prays John will be *quiet...*

Floating higher and higher, Johns other hand still tightly gripping on the scarf, the other moving and mapping out the hard member he had in his hand, running a thumb over the sensitive head. God help him, he was so close already that it should be embarrassing. But they didn´t have time to draw it out, this as just a temporary relief so that they could run away without problems. All rational thoughts disappeared from his mind as he reached the peak and fell over, teeth digging in his lip drawing out blood as he tried not to cry out in pleasure, hips bucking almost wildly in his hand before he went limp, breathing heavily, his other hand still working on Sherlock.

Sherlock gives him a squeeze as he comes, still thrusting into John's hand, and then the whole world seems to collapse, and endorphins flood his brain, and the pain and the thought of them dying in a few minutes is blinded by that lovely white hot release, and John's mouth is on his neck, and he's gasping silently into his hair, and it's beautiful and crude and hot and good and perfect to be there, just there, just there with John in the closet. "Be...better?" he asks quietly. John's mouth is swollen, and he's got the start of a hickey right behind his ear. "Look like you took a beating."

John huffed a tired laugh silently, pushing himself up and away from Sherlock and ran a hand through his own hair. "You know, you don´t look much better." He stated eyes raking over Sherlock, his messed up hair, grumbled shirt and an unmistakable love bite on side of his neck where he had bit down. Oops. What on earth were they doing? John shook himself out of it, straightening his shirt and buttoning his jeans before looking up at Sherlock again. Damn him and his height. "Why?"

Sherlock tossed his bangs out of his eyes and looked down at John with a strange look. "Because you needed it and...we may die in two minutes." John looked so short right there, and he felt a sudden surge of protection for him, bumping their foreheads together. "Now. Fifteen seconds to find a way out. Follow me exactly."

John would have protested more, it simply wasn´t just 'because he needed it'. It couldn´t be. So he nodded his agreement but made a mental note to talk about what happened as soon as they were out of there. "What are we doing now?"

"Backs turned, two feet in front of us. Door opens outward, quick disarm, breath held, sleeper hold until both to the ground. Front door - best option. Find an alley, go from there. You can do it. You invaded Afghanistan."

"Wait, what are you going to do?" John asked as he realized that Sherlock was pretty much telling him to make a run for it and escape from the house. He couldn´t just leave Sherlock there damn it!

"I'll only be a minute," Sherlock murmurs. "I need you to get out - it's so overt, it's covert." He nods to him. "Hopefully your knees won't give out. Can you walk? Run?"

"Sherlock, I´m not leaving you behind!" John hissed grabbing a hold of his scarf. "we do these things together, remember? Why should I run and leave you alone with two men, two men with possibly guns."

Sherlock opens his mouth, then closes it. There's no use arguing, not with John. "I...fine. Disarm the one on the far left, he's less agile. One on the right is mine. Both unarmed. Got it? That's an order. And run, if I tell you to."

"Fine." John agreed relieved that Sherlock wasn´t chasing him away. He glanced through the cracks at the one on left, he was further away but seemed to be fragile enough that it wouldn´t even be a problem to get him on the ground.

It was all a big blur, at some point he realized they charged from the closet, taking in the surprised looks on the two men. He had kicked the other man down, the next moment Sherlock had pulled him out of the house and into the alley where he inhaled deeply the cool night air and let it out slowly. Fresh air had never felt so good before. Leaning against the wall, he brushed hair out of his face, sweat still covering his forehead as his mind went back to the closet. "Sherlock, we need to talk about what happened."

Sherlock cracked his neck and looked at him. "Why? It's over, nothing to worry about now. Now...how'd he do it..." He's speaking more to himself now.

John shook his head disbelieving. This could not be it, it couldn´t be by-passed just like that god damn it. "No Sherlock, it´s not over. Okay it is, but not my point. Why did you do it? Why did you have to observe and say things like that, even if you knew what my reaction would have been?"

"Because," Sherlock drawled, the roll of his eyes tingling his voice as well, "it would have been a rather large disadvantage to both of us with you trying to run with an erection. THAT is why, John. And it's obvious," he added, "You're turned on by danger, and obviously by men. Best option, taken right there."

"So what, it was all just a bloody experiment for you?" John asked disbelieving, anger and fury rising from his chest. You know I´m not a bloody puppet you can do experiments on." He huffed pushing himself off the wall and turned his back to Sherlock, breathing heavily at the outburst. "Do what you want, I´m going back to the flat."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John! Come on, John, it was for the both of us, we wouldn't be standing here unless we'd done so. John." He grabs him by the arm and turns him to face him. "You..." His words die on his tongue as he finally sees the hurt in his flatmate's eyes - they were a little shinier than usual. "John..."

"Let me go." John said silently, nudging his arm and trying to pry it from Sherlocks spider-like fingers. "I´m serious, I´m not in mood of one of your games. Great, we´re alive, so let´s celebrate that with own time, okay?" He asked staring at the ground, pulling on his hand again. No avail, he wasn´t getting free.

"There's more to this, isn't there?" It's barely a question, more of an interrogative stare into John's face, a harsh statement that strips him bare. "You're attracted to...only me, aren't you?" It clicks. No wonder John puts up with him, why he's not able to hold down a girlfriend. "Well...that makes this..."

"Just...let me go. I´m exhausted for many things and I jsut want to sleep all this away and wake up in morning to find everything like it should be." John pleaded silently, he could not take any more of this. Being an experiment, he felt used and pissed, but too tired to show off a real tantrum. "Let´s just go home."


	2. Chapter 2

The taxi ride home was awkward to say the least. Sherlock was staring out the window, and he knew John was seething miserably beside him. Halfway there, he turned. "Dinner? Chinese? On me?" There's a silence. "Please?"

John didn´t turn his head to look at Sherlock, he just couldn´t. He stared at the changing scenery in front of him and sighed. "I´m not that hungry...I appreciate your gesture, but I don´t feel like eating."

"I don't either." Sherlock didn't want to say that it had taken him until then to understand what Ms. Adler had meant by 'dinner.' "I'm sorry, John. I didn't know that it would...extend to this. I just thought that the...physical was all you needed."

"Well, seems like even Sherlock Holmes can read people wrong." John stated dryly, paying the cab as it reached their flat and opened the door stumbling out of the car and inhaling deeply yet again. He didn´t like the sharp pain on his chest, it didn´t belong there.

Sherlock felt like wringing his hands. "I...John, I'm sorry." He was really terrible at this whole interaction, and was just making it more awkward. "You've got more experience in relationships. What do you want from me?" It sounds snappish, but he's serious. He doesn't know.

John stopped before their door, before pushing the key in hole and opening it, turning to look at Sherlock over his shoulders with glassed over, pained eyes. "That´s for you to find out. It wouldn´t be the same if I told you." He shook his head lightly before stepping inside their flat, getting rid of his shoes and walking upstairs, noticing the small, sharp pain on his leg. Lifting an eyebrow surprised, he tested the leg. Yes, the phantom pain was doing its return. With a sigh he walked in kitchen, putting the kettle on fire and starting to prepare tea. Tea always helped.

Sherlock followed silently, staring at John's gait - it was uneven, stress induced limp, he can tell. Now he knows. It's emotional turmoil that sets him off, but he never expected something as simple as this to set him off...but John, deep down, wasn't simple. That's what Sherlock loved about him.

"I'm ordering Chinese," he said to John's back, still turned to him in the kitchen. His flat mate was making tea, and he noticed only one cup. "Want the usual? Or...something special?"

"The usual sounds fine, but take a small size. John said pouring tea on the cup. "As I said, I´m not hungry." He finished taking the cup and moving into the living room, passing the skull and glanced at it before sitting on 'his' armchair, since Sherlock always took over the couch. Sometimes he had caught Sherlock sleeping on it, and it looked uncomfortable, Sherlock being a tall person after all.

Sherlock is quick to order their usual, ignoring John's size request. Afterward, he wraps himself in his blue dressing gown and comes to sit across from John in his chair, staring intently at him. "How long?"

John was mindlessly tapping away on his laptop, reading comments on his blog and replying them and lifted his gaze of the screen with a confused look. "How long what? Be more specific, please."

"How long have you been attracted to me?" He knows John's about to respond with something ridiculous, so he throws the dart. "How long have you loved me?"

John shook his head, thought about arguing about it but he had already showed himself and his feelings when he got pissed off. "I´m not sure. You could say it just happened."

"You've lived with me over a year. It doesn't just happen." Sherlock leaned forward and snapped John's laptop shut. "When did it start? When did you first even entertain the idea?"

"Hey!" John hissed grabbing the laptop back, holding it against his chest and glared at Sherlock. "You know, I could have been doing important work which would have been lost when you closed the lid."

"Your settings won't let anything close, it's on standby, now -tell- me." His eyes narrow, then widen. "You wouldn't have put up with me so long unless...unless something got in your way." He leans back, closing his eyes for a moment, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "It was her. The Woman. He opens them and looks directly at John. "You sensed competition."

"Competition? Now you´re talking rubbish." John said quickly, ignoring the unpleasant loop his stomach did. Irene Adler. He had hated the woman right after he realized that she was trying to get Sherlock, but it wasn´t like he was going to tell that to anyone. "The reason I put up with you is that you´d be lost without your blogger." He retorted back, drinking his tea.

John, as always you see but you do not observe." Sherlock shook his head, smiling. "Or in this case, you do not listen." He leaned forward. "Attraction to me...yes. But you forget to include the fact that she told you she was a lesbian." His eyes narrow. "What was it she did that you hated so much?"

John blinked few times, opening his mouth and shutting it again. "Lesbian? B-but she wanted to have 'dinner' with you and we both know what that really meant." He added poison in his voice before he caught himself and coughed. "Can we please talk about something else? I have work to do." John said putting the laptop on the floor and empty cup on the small table.

"Dinner - a euphemism for a date, I'm sure. Sex, more likely. She's drawn to the idea of having power over someone. I'm the perfect challenge." He gave John a look. "You have nothing to do, stop lying. And you -do- want to talk about it, it's a subconscious trick to draw into a conversation." He put his hands on John's knees. "We're going to talk about it. Now tell me, why do you love me? You're angry with me all the time."

John fought the shiver down that was about to rise when Sherlock touched his knees and swallowed. "I´m not mad…no, I´m mad about what you did, that´s what I´m mad about." He said his eyes fixed on the hands on his knees. Such long, elegant fingers. Smooth skinned. He felt the heat on his cheeks as he remembered what those fingers were doing to him earlier and shook his head. "Why I love you? Because you´re the most amazing person I´ve ever met. I never get bored with you, and when we´re alone, you have this...smile on your face. I´ve never seen you give it to anyone else than me.."

"People are boring, you at least provide some stimulation," Sherlock comments. It sounds a lot harsher than he intends it to. "At this stage, it's only physical infatuation. I'm assuming it will pass." The words make his heart sink. "Don't worry, John, you won't love me for long."

John stared at Sherlock, not believing his ears. Just how dumb could someone be! The old irritation rising from deep from his chest, he threw the most piercing glare he could at Sherlock as he stood up absurdly, shaking his hands away from him. "Sherlock Holmes, you´re a bloody idiot. The night was tiring and I have work in morning. Good night." And with that, he turned away and practically fled back to the stairs and in his own room.

Sherlock stared after him. It had been a test. John's emotional only rarely, and he can tell - it's different. It's not just an infatuation. And the worst thing is...he doesn't know what to do, now. A moody John he can deal with, an angry John is like brain food, arguing usually exposes things, but an...upset John...that's a little more difficult. It's like Sherlock without a case. John rarely does this, shuts down like Sherlock will.

The doorbell rings - Chinese. He carries the takeout boxes upstairs, knocking on John's surprisingly closed door. "John." No answer. "John, I got your favorite." No answer. "If you don't open the door, I'll eat your fortune cookie. I'll predict it, too. And I'll probably be right."

John sat on his bed with a small book, glancing at the door when he hears the knock and Sherlock call for him and he shook his head. God help him, he was acting like a lovesick teenager, but this, all this, the emotions he thought he would never feel anymore, they were there and feeling towards one of the arrogant and complicated person on earth.

"Feel free to, I told you I´m not hungry!" John shouted back at him, closing the book and placing it on the night table. He was irritated, pissed, angry and sad at the same time and he wasn´t used to feel so many emotions at the same time.

"Well then." Sherlock rustles the bag. "Here's my prediction: Forgiveness is the mother of all good deeds." He cracked open the cookie. "Well look at that! And I opened it on your behalf, so it's really your fortune. Three guesses as to what mine is." He pressed his cheek to the door. "Come on, John. You can't see if I'm right or not."

John ignored Sherlock for a while, but couldn´t help the small smile on his lip. Of course he would know what there would be in a fortune cookie, what didn´t Sherlock now? Sherlock's cookie though.. "How about 'Searching deeper inside you, you might find the answer you´re looking for?" John asked the first thing that came in his mind.

"Well, deeper in my pockets I may, just may, find something that will help me pick the lock on your door," Sherlock says nonchalantly. "Let's find out. Ah yes. Guess I'd better get to work then."

He's terrible at lock-picking and of course he's lying, he doesn't have anything in his pockets. But he kneels down and starts to poke a chopstick in the keyhole, rattling it around with a very convincing sound. "Why did you even lock the door? Are you naked? Not that that matters anymore." There's a snap, and the tip of the chopstick breaks. Sherlock scowls and stays there on the floor. "John...please."

John froze for a moment, hearing Sherlock try to pick on the lock, but surprisingly he noticed that he didn´t get it open. So he had most likely used some weak material and it was stuck in the keyhole now. Perfect.

With a sigh, John moved carefully to the door, but didn´t open it. Instead he slid against it on the floor, head resting on the door. "What do you want me to say? There´s nothing left to say or do anymore Sherlock. Let´s just forget this and continue like normal, okay?"

"This isn't normal, John. You've locked yourself in your room and you won't talk to me." Sherlock can almost feel John on the other side, and slips his fingers under the door. "Please, John. I have...difficulty with these things. Be gentle with me. Talk with me."

John jerked startled, seeing the tips of Sherlock's fingers peek from under the door and the image of Sherlock kneeling behind the same door, trying to pry his fingers under it like he could turn into a worm and slither on this side of the room made John stifle a laughter behind his palm. He knew Sherlock wasn´t used to this, but..."You hurt me, Sherlock. I know you´re not good with feelings, but tonight, you hurt me. You thought all I want was something physical, like a...like a prostitute. You used me to experiment if you were right with your conclusions. I´m not an experiment, I´m a human being with feelings."

Sherlock was quiet a moment. He really had hurt John, and there's an acidic curling of guilt in his gut. "John, I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't know. After all, I didn't really see anything in common between you and Sarah, but you slept together. I thought that constituted..." He was sounding particularly stupid now. "John. Let me in. I prefer to do my interviews face to face, you know that."

John shook his head to himself. "Me and Sarah...we never did it." He found himself saying and flushed a little. Torn between just saying night and going to bed, John caved and stood up, turning the key on the lock and opening the door.

Sherlock looks up at him from the floor, the bag of Chinese sitting beside him, broken chopstick in hand. "Half empty tube of silicon-based lubricant in your beside cabinet, open box of condoms, came home smelling of pheromones...you intended to. But you didn't?" He tilts his head, still sitting. "Why not?"

"I couldn´t." John said turning around and marching back in his room, but leaving door open as an invitation he knew Sherlock would take. "And how do you know..about the lube and condoms?" He asked with a lifted eyebrow. "Do you go through my stuff when I´m not home?"

"Shared quarters. My things are yours, yours are mine. Can't be surprised." Sherlock walked to sit on his bed. "Why didn't you? You realized you were gay?"

You still shouldn´t go through stuff in others peoples drawers." John pointed out as he sat cross-legged on the bed and nodded. "You could say that. When we were about to...I just couldn´t do it."

"Still...you felt threatened by Irene when you had a girlfriend." Sherlock shook his head. "Two gay men living together, one has a fake girlfriend and still feels threatened by a lesbian dominatrix. You, John Watson, are complicated."

John was on lack of words, all he could do was stare at Sherlock before he blinked himself out of it. "Wait, two gay guys? And I´m not gay, bi maybe..not gay.. But you mean you´re...I thought you were 'married to your work'" John quoted Sherlock's own words.

"No human interaction to feed on usually leads to celibacy for a while," Sherlock counters, his face unchanging. "You asked me if I had a girlfriend, I said not really my area. You then asked if I had a boyfriend, said it was fine, I said I knew it was, and then said no, I didn't have one. I didn't deny my sexuality. As always, John." He leaned forward. "You see, but you do not -observe.-" His gaze is strange, oddly promising, teasing, and at the same time reassuring.

John swallowed, that all made sense to be honest. "So…you´re gay. But you haven´t shown any interest to anyone. Why is that? Do you think relationships are just boring?" He asked ignoring the move Sherlock made, making them sit closer to each other. He had too many questions in his mind, the gogs turning in his head.

"The wrong relationships, yes. Hence the reason your girlfriends bore me just about to death." He inclines his head. "You've got more questions. I can see them in your brow line."

"Few, yeah." John admitted looking up from the floor and for a long time met Sherlock's eyes, almost shivering at the insentity of the gaze. "You look troubled by the fact that I´m feeling..like this. Why? Because if you´re afraid I´ll leave you to fight against criminals alone, I´m not doing that."

"No, because I need you." It's the most honest thing he's ever said to John. And it's true. He does need John. "You look surprised."

John pretty much gawped at Sherlock before melting in a smile. "I told you you´d be lost without your blogger."

Sherlock laughs at that, and brushes his foot against John's thigh. "So...can you stand my company tonight, now that you've discovered all this?"

"Maybe. Are you going to drive me on the walls again?" John asked amused, already feeling lighter and more relaxed.

"Depends. Would you feel more 'normal' then?"

"I would never feel normal when I´m with you. Nothing is normal or boring."

"Strange type of purgatory, isn't it? Maybe you're working off all your sins by living with me." Sherlock grins and moved a little closer. "Forgive me?"

John was quiet for a moment. "I´m not forgetting this easily you know, but if we´re meant to live under the same roof, I guess I have to take a little easier with you."

"Deduce me this, John." Sherlock leaned forward, and his gaze was very intense. "Why did I do what I did in that closet, today?"

"U-uhh..." John stuttered, automatically leaning on his hands, backing away from Sherlock. "Because you made a hypothesis of me and wanted to experiment if you were right?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. "You live with me, John. I conduct my social experiments from afar, usually. Unless it involves you. Now. What does that say, or do I really have to spell it out for you?"

John blinked, licking on his lip briefly. "You..care?" He suggested weakly, eyes searching Sherlock's face.

Sherlock doesn't break gaze. "Care. What do you really think, John?" He presses his hands to the mattress. "What do you want to think, John?"

"I.." John swallowed, breaking the gaze and turning it on the floor shaking his head. "It´s impossible. there would be no way you´d be interested in someone like me. A boring ex-army doctor.."

"You're the only one who'll accompany me on a chase. You're the only one who puts up with me on a daily basis. You're the only one who will laugh with me about being in nothing but a sheet at the center of the British Empire. You're my only friend." Sherlock crawls closer. "And you don't think that that would interest me?"

John swallowed, turning his head back at Sherlock and flinching, noticing the predatory style he was crawling closer. "So you are interested then..?"

"Just a tad," Sherlock murmurs. He's very close now. "Thinking of kissing me, John? Isn't that what normal people do?"

"We´re far from normal." John murmured weakly, eyes flickering between his grey, intent eyes to his lips.

"Really?" Sherlock whispered, and his face was crafty now. "Guess our definitions are different." And he pushes John down on the mattress and kissed him.

***squeals* Very sexy times in next chapter, stay tuned up for it!** **Also, I want to thank for the review and everyone who favourited/alerted this story! Please review more!**


	3. Chapter 3

John had exactly time to release a small gasp before he felt the pressure of soft, warm lips against his owns and he sighed in the kiss, eyes fluttering close.  
>Sherlock sinked down to rest his weight on John's thighs, bringing his arms up to wrap around his neck. This was for him, a proper kissing session. Whether it escalated to anything else could be up to John, but the fact that he wasn't getting slapped away was promising.<p>

John slid his hands up his back, tangling his fingers in Sherlock's hair, wondering about the dark, soft curls that tickled his palms as he angled the kiss a little, making it slightly deeper and let out a happy noise. The fact that Sherlock did this, wanted this, was enough to send butterflies around his stomach.

Sherlock sinked and rolled John on top of him, pulling him closer giving a little sigh. "Think I could enjoy this," he murmured against his mouth, quickly silenced again by another of John's kisses. "Hnn.."  
>John chuckled, silencing him with yet another kiss before pulling away to catch his breath. He was probably wearing the most stupidest grin on his face ever as he kept playing with Sherlock's hair between his fingers.<p>

Sherlock was positively purring at the attention, rubbing his fingers over John's jawline, down his neck. "Where else do you like to be kissed?"  
>John lifted his eyebrow challening. "Isn´t that something you should be able to find out, instead of being told to?" He asked with hint of amusement, eyes flickering down at him.<p>

"Of course, but I want to make sure you know all of them...and know which ones you don't want to tell me." Sherlock's eyes were promising and sly. John shuddered at the look and the words. Clearly Sherlock couldn´t know his weak spots or turn ons...right? That would be impossible, even for him. "I know my spots and 'kinks' alright." John grinned back at him, not letting his thoughts show.

Sherlock nipped his chin slightly. "When you were pressed against me in the closet, you tensed slightly when my hand came to the small of your back. Sensitive nerves there usually indicate a liking for the back of the neck, but also, you enjoyed the feeling of having someone support you, which indicates a bit of roughness, a need to be supported after being broken or roughened up. You also tended to burrow into me a bit, a mirror neuron response to liking that as well, it's both comforting and sensitive to the average person, but the force with which you did it, and the slight hint of teeth implies you like that kind of treatment. You also are a military man, which shows you're used to giving orders - implies either you love a power struggle, which is less likely, or you enjoy the feeling of someone taking control, based on the partner. Here, I think that's more likely. You also are pressing into me with more pressure from your right hip, so..." He tickled him right at the point where his shirt was a bit lifted off his side, and grins. "Seems like you're ticklish. Am I wrong?"

John eyes widened the further Sherlock's explanation got, and before he had time to react, those clever fingers were tickling on his side, making him yelp and laugh surprised, trying to catch his hand. "Okay, point taken! You discovered almost everything! D-don´t tickle!" He grinned trying to squirm away.

Sherlock, feeling suddenly eager, flipped him over and tickled him mercilessly, digging his fingers into ribs, pinning him to the bed with his legs, trapping his arms beneath his calves, getting every inch he can. "Not letting you go," he hissed over John's high-pitched, begging laughter, "until you guess what mine are."  
>John gasped and laughed, trying to struggle and roll away from Sherlock's grip, useless. "Sherlock please, I can´t know them!" He laughed body shaking underneath him.<p>

"Looks like I'm just going to tickle you till you go insane, then!" Sherlock's touches became delicately vicious, and he bent to take John's earlobe between his lips, teasing and sucking and nipping a little less gently. "Think, John, think! Or guess! Can't be too difficult, can it?"  
>John squirmed and released a small moan that was soon drowned in his breathless laughter as he tried to think. "Well you seem to like being in charge, show just what you can do to me, and prove that you can turn me into a begging mess in less than ten minutes." John breathed out, squirming under him.<p>

"Oh, excellent John, that's just what I like." Sherlock's voice was honeyed and tinted in dark chocolate in John's ear. "And what if I just flipped you over and had you right now as The Woman would say?"  
>"Guess I wouldn´t say no." John stated trying to draw in air, grinning up at Sherlock. "Tell you what, name two of my absolute turn ons and you can do whatever you want with me." He added with darkened eyes and a challenging smirk on his face.<p>

"Easy," Sherlock breathed, and his smile was wicked. "Took a few minutes to discover, but the way you're heart's beating and the goosebumps around the back of your neck make it transparent." He leaned forward, eyes wide. "My voice. And..." He slipped his hand down, feeling John's hands shaking under his calves, grabbing his crotch and breathed down his neck. "Being dominated. I could even declare your favorite positions by now."

Johns eyes widen and he buck up against Sherlock's hand, letting out a helpless sound. For a brief moment John thought about declaring that it was more like dirty talk, then he realized that it´d still be his voice what would be the undo of him. "Favorite positions? Let me hear them."

"Fine," Sherlock whispered, and with that, he inhaled deeply in the space of John's neck and drank in the little moan, the trembling of his hands and he released them from under his legs. "You're a close person, you like tradition - missionary's good for you, when you're with someone you want to impress. Someone like Sarah. But you, the real you, the soldier knows what he likes..." He ran his back over the curve of John's backside and rolled them over once again. "The arch of your back is strong. You hold yourself on top of me like you know what you're doing, and your thighs are gripping me just enough to stay on, not enough to hurt - you like to _ride_, John Watson."

"Let´s me take up the pace." John smirked down at him, amazement shining from his eyes. He slid his fingers up to Sherlock's face, running his thumb over his bottom lip, pressing ever so slightly. "Well then Sherlock Holmes...you answered your questions correctly." John whispered, looking down at Sherlock submissively and with a grin. "I´m all yours."

Sherlock grinned up at him and bucked his hips a little, pressing his hands into John's thighs to keep him there, making sure he feels the half-hard length beneath his pants. "Mmm...you sure, John? You sure you want me to do what I'm going to do to you?"  
>John bit on his lip, feeling Sherlock hard and wanting under him. He was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he did that to him. "I did promise if you got them right, that you´d get to do whatever you want..." He said with a sly smile.<p>

Sherlock grinned, gripping the back of his neck and pulled him down for a deep, toe-curling kiss, dragging the tip of his tongue across the roof of John's mouth, slipping hands up his shirt to pinch his nipples without warning, moaning for no particular reason, just because he knew John is so beautifully, magnificently turned on by his voice. "I'm going to do so many things to you, John," he said against John's slightly open mouth. "Can't guarantee you'll see straight tomorrow."

John kissed him back as deeply, hissing at the pinch on his nipples, causing him to arch his back and shiver as Sherlock's voice reached his ears again. "So much talk...so little action.." John murmured with a smirk, breaking the kiss gasping for air.

"Careful now, or I won't speak at all." Sherlock flipped him over and whipped his shirt over his head. He bit that lovely little spot that made him squirm on his collarbone - one that John didn't even know he had, he's sure - and proceeded to drag his teeth down John's torso, to the waistband of his trousers, pressing a hot, wet kiss to his belly and digging his fingers into John's sides. "Hmm...tell me what you want me to do, John. I want to hear you say it."

John squirmed and let out a small whine when Sherlock bit him on the collarbone, shivering all over as he closed his eyes, feeling Sherlock move down on his body, using his teeth and lips to make him quiver. Then the fingers were pressed on his sides and he heard Sherlock's words. He had to ask for it, beg for it? Oh hell no. "Anything..Just touch me."

Sherlock growled slightly and jerked at the button of John's pants with his teeth, pressing his mouth over the bulge of John's cock through his underwear, breathing hot and hard against the fabric, grinning at the evidence that his touch is working. He peeled the waistband away and maneuvered everything down to John's mid-thigh, got lazy and left it there, too intent on gazing at John's cock now lying against his belly, already hard and eager for attention.

John bit his lip as he was exposed to the cold air round them and squirmed under the weight of Sherlock's gaze. He felt exposed, helpless, and god help him he loved that feeling. "Sherlock.."  
>John said silently, pleading with his eyes for anything at all, he was achingly hard and needed release that only he could give him.<p>

Sherlock was quick and less than gentle as he swallowed John into his mouth, sucking hard. There's no tenderness here, there's no hint of gentleness - he's playing to the soldier in John, he's playing to the one who likes to submit even though he puts up a fight. He sucked so hard that he's sure he'll bruise the roof of his mouth, but he didn't care. John wanted it, wanted that rough attention, and he's sure to give it to him.

John pretty much screams out when Sherlock started to suck him so hard he was sure he was trying to suck his brains out of his dick. Fingers clenching around the sheets, gripping and fisting them tightly, Johns hips moved on their own accord and pushed up in Sherlock's mouth, making him moan out as he was completely surrounded with tight, wet heat.

Sherlock pulled away with a back-arching suck, only to swallow John down again, slipping his hands to the small of his back to support him, letting him thrust into his mouth as he needed to - but it didn't last long. Soon, he's pressing his hips to the bedspread and viciously working his mouth up and down John's cock, cheeks hollowed and air-tight, fingers digging into the soft skin of John's hips.

"Bloody hell!" John yelled his fingers tightening on the sheets, fisting them out of their place as he bucked up into that heat, almost letting out a sob when Sherlock pinned his hips back down on the bed. His whole body was writhing and trembling, the familiar heat boiling in his lower stomach, making his toes curl and he started to gasp for breath.

Sherlock suddenly stopped - John's cock slipping out of his mouth with a delicious pop, and he dove down to nip at his inner thigh, raking his nails down John's sides, touching and caressing all those good, beautifully sensitive spots, paying attention to every single area except the one that wanted attention the most. He loved how the tip is darkening, how his skin has started to flush and bloom, how his hands shook and clenched the sheets. He promptly grabbed the clothes still restricting John's thighs and pulled them off - he's fully clothed above a beautifully naked John, and his eyes took him in for almost a full minute - teasing with a stare piercing enough to cut stone.

John let out a whimper when Sherlock stopped. He was ready to beg for that mouth back on his cock, he was aching and had been so close to relief that he felt like burning under his skin. Shivering and giving slight hisses and gasps at the bites and nips on his skin, he looked up at Sherlock, meeting such a predatory gaze it made his blood run hot. God, this man was going to kill him.

Sherlock's eyes fell to John's erection, which twitched under his gaze. He saw John looking at the bulge in his own pants, and he instantly straddled John's bare thighs and dragged his hand to feel him through his trousers. "Feel that?" he hissed. "Feel that, John Watson? That's what you do to me." He grinded his hips into John's hand, biting and sucking on his neck, the intent to leave a nice, lovely, large hickey that would be evident for days. "Turn over," he said brusquely, and flipped John onto his stomach, now straddling the backs of his thighs, his clothed cock pressing right against the curve of his ass. He ran his hands down John's back, kissing the evidence of the old wound on his shoulder. He took a moment, just pressed against John, to feel him, feel the whole length of their bodies pressed together. "John..."

Oh John feels alright. He feels the long curve of Sherlock's hard on against his hand and he sucks in breath at the dizziness that he did that for him. The next moment he´s flipped over, and he gasps feeling Sherlock grind his cock against his ass and he keens, mouth watering at the thought of it inside him. "S-Sherlock.." John whispered silently, turning his head on the side and pant against the sheets.

Sherlock dragged his shirt over his head, pressing his bare chest to John's back, and kissed his way down the line of his spine - teeth are not optional, and he loved watching the raise of goosebumps when he hit a soft spot on John's skin. He came down to the curve of his ass and spread him apart, running the tip of his tongue down the crease, pressing a kiss to his entrance. "What do you need from me, John? Tell me. I want to hear it."

Johns back arched and he rolled his hips against the mattress, creating friction against his cock that had him mewling shamelessly. Feeling Sherlock press that kiss against his entrance, John felt like his face would explode from the hotness and redness of it as he struggled on his place. "S-Sherlock, you don´t...that´s dirty..." He objected, feeling highly aroused.

Sherlock chuckled, a low, dark note in his voice. "Your mouth is dirtier, John." He bit down on a sensitive spot at the base of his spine. "Do you not want me to?"

John cursed at the bite, tremors running through his body. "Yes, god yes.."

Sherlock spread him forcefully and growls, "I was going to anyway." He dipped his head and pressed the flat of his tongue to John's entrance, drawing a slow, agonizing circle around and around, down the skin behind his balls, back up to massage with two fingers, then positively assault John with his tongue. He's not gentle - he's probing and rough and worshipping and just what he knows John needs. "How does it feel, John? Tell me."

John trembled at Sherlock's words and cried out against the mattress which thankfully muffled his moans, as he felt Sherlock's clever tongue flick on his entrance, making him quiver. Then there were licking, and finally that tongue was in him, making his back arch and fists clench on the headboard of the bed. "C-Christ-!" He managed to get out, Sherlock was not showing any mercy at all, practically fucking him with his tongue, making him a moaning mess.

Sherlock was cruel and beautifully attentive at the same time. He knew where John kept his lube, and promptly slipped it from under his pillow without so much as a blink. In a moment, he's got his fingers slicked, and one probing where his tongue is, pulling back and pushing two in without a care in the world. It's rough, but he knew John. He could handle it.

John bit on the sheets to prevent himself from shouting, legs trembling as the two fingers were pressed inside him, creating the most delicious friction, even though it burned a little. A small moan escaped his lips as he pushed back up on his fingers.

Sherlock pushed deep, listening to John's little moan - well actually, more than a "little" moan - as he twisted and scissored and stretched John, suddenly pulling his fingers out and returning with viciously exploring tongue, then pulling out and replacing it with three fingers - he's determined to break John, to tease him with sensation to the point of insanity. He came up and flipped John over again, hand still down between his legs, looking into his eyes with a devilish little grin. "Not a _sound_, soldier, not a _sound_." And he curled three fingers hard against John's prostate.

Johns mind was hazy from all the pleasure Sherlock was giving him, and then he was flipped over and there was a push- Johns breath caught in his throat and he slapped his hand before his mouth, hips bucking up in his fingers, eyes wide open and he fought back the noise that wanted to tear from his throat. The grin Sherlock wore was damn right devilish, daring him to let a noise just so he could use it to punish him more and he shivered helplessly at the thought. Sherlock was breaking him down piece by piece and he loved it.

He's gleeful - John's struggling so, and he's shaking and he can feel him beginning to tighten around him, his pulse speeding up. "Don't you _dare_ come," he snapped, curling his fingers so harshly that John's jaw trembles. "If you come, I'll keep going until you run dry and you can't see straight."

John released a small whine, his body aching and Sherlock's words, the dominant tone and actions didn´t help at all, in fact, it just made it worse. "S-Sher...lock.." He keens, hips bucking wildly, the orgasm too close to be stopped this time even though he fights to try to hold it back, but it´s no use. "Shitshitshitshit-!"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed to aroused, angry slits - of course he's acting, the sight and sound of John literally falling apart has nearly made him come without any stimulation whatsoever, but he's in control, and he loved to torture John - he pulled out his fingers and pushed John's knees towards his shoulders, licking deep inside while John is mid-orgasm, such an overstimulation that John's voice rose an octave, and he's back up near his neck within a milli-second. "You know what this means, don't you?" he whispered against the most ticklish, sensitive part of John's throat, still feeling the glorious spurt of semen against their stomachs. "Say it, John!"

John gasped for breath, head tipped back and eyes lust blown, staring into nothingness as his orgasm kept washing through him, literally making him see starts and fireworks before his eyes. He was aware of the noices he made, but it was all just too damn good to be cared about. Until he heard Sherlock's voice and he came back into reality, turning his head to look at Sherlock's dark, dangerous eyes and swallowed instinctively.  
>"A...a p-punishment..?" John asked weakly, licking over his lip as his body kept shaking.<p>

God, that's good. Sherlock had jerked his trousers down just enough to free his cock, slicking it with John's come, of all things, and it's kinky and perfect and sticky and John's got that hazy, "Oh god" kind of look, and it's so perfect that Sherlock just rolled them both over and sat John on his cock without so much as a warning look. He arched so every single inch slips it, and he's buried to the hilt in one hard, spearing thrust. "Yes, John Watson. You ride until you can't speak. And you talk. You keep talking until I'm -sure- you can't anymore."

John threw his head back with a cry as Sherlock pushed in him, his legs were trembling on either side of Sherlock's legs, hands braced against Sherlock's chest as he tried to keep himself up and balanced. The head of Sherlock's cock was pressed just before the prostate, and John knew that when he´d move, it'd brush right at it, and it was already overstimulated...He swallowed meeting Sherlock's gleaming eyes. This man was determined to break him. "I don´t know what I shoul-ah! t-talk abou-nnnhh..!" John gasped, lifting himself up and sliding back down, dots clouding his vision.

Sherlock thrusted, and John bounced on his cock once, eyes beautifully dull. His speech was slurred and choppy at the same time, and he loved it. "Tell me what it feels like, John. Tell me how it feels to have me so deep inside you. Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself and what you want from me and everything you know I already know about." He put his hands behind his head and bucked his hips - he could go forever, he loved being a tease. He watched as John's gaze fogs, and he paused. "Tell me. Talk, or I'll leave you here, needy and wanting."

"No..please, don´t stop-" Sherlock got him on edge of begging and over, too late to turn back. Riding on Sherlock, rolling his hips sometimes he tried to form words to describe his thoughts. "I-I think about you, a..bout you c-cuffing me..fuck...on the bed, helpless...S- Sometimes you use a..a vibrating plug in me, using..nggggh... the remote and-angh...t-talk dirty to bring me on e-edge over and over again but never let me fall until i´m..oh god...crying for release.." John babbled with a bright blush on his face, riding him slightly faster eyes half-lidded.

Sherlock arched - the words went straight to his dick and he pulsed a bit inside John, arching his hips forward and back, forward and back, sometimes hitting that good spot, sometimes not, sometimes just deciding to go deep and not caring what he hits, just as long as John kept talking, kept letting him fuck him. He could see John's cock steadily rise again, from over-stimulation and his own filthy words, and it's a sight, a sight for any pair of eyes. "And what do you feel now, John? And what do you want to feel?"

"I feel...I feel you, I f-feel you so -aah- deep in me, it feels so g-g-good, it´s too good, already stimulated, feels too good to s-stop-" He breathed out in one litany, letting his head fall against Sherlock's shoulder, gripping on him tightly as he kept lifting his hips in growing pace. "Want to feel you come in me..want to-shit- be filled with it, marked as yours.." John whispered, moaning low from his throat.

Sherlock grinned and stopped moving. "All yours, John. I think you need more. Ride me like you mean it." He ran his hands up John's thighs. "Make me fill you. Make me want to throw you to the ground and shag you into the flat below. Make me come inside you."

Johns protest of Sherlock's unmoving dies on his lips as the words register in his brains and he draws in air shakily, pushing himself up and leaning back against Sherlock's legs, propping on his hands, his back arched and head thrown back as he bit his lip picking up the pace, soon enough letting out muffled cries as he rides Sherlock as fast as he possibly could, bringing one hand to his own chest, pinching a nipple between his fingers and whines. "Please...oh please Sherlock, please-!"

Sherlock growled as John did as he's told, and John, oh John is so good at following orders, and now he's leaning back, and his beautiful cock slapped against his belly, positively drooling with precome, head thrown back as he rolled and pinched his nipples, and Sherlock had to come up and put his arms around him, nip John's fingers to get them out of the way and sit him down in his lap, forcing him up and down faster than should be allowed, his tongue lapping and his lips sucking and teeth biting down on the nub, driving deeper and deeper with each thrust. "Come now, John." He rocked John at an odd angle. "And talk me through it. Let me know how well I fuck you."

John screamed out once his chest is assaulted, the new angle awkward but positively hitting his prostate with every thrust and he feel like a ragdoll, completely boneless and only good to keep noise. The second orgasm hits him suddenly and he gasps out, whole body tensing and clenching around Sherlock's cock, making him sob through the orgasm, body jerking and thick spurts of come splash between them again as he tries to keep him up, only managing to moan out Sherlock's name repeadetily. He failed orders once again, John realized as he panted against Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock groaned, his voice escalating into a cry that's low and guttural and harsh. He forced John down to the point that he's surprised they don't meld together from the heat building between their bodies, and the lift in his gut forces his whole body into a limb-seizing, mind-shattering orgasm. He felt John clench around him, milk him into one long, moaning moment, and he's beyond caring that John's not speaking, he's more than content with his babbling, incoherent sounds. "That's it, John, yes, that's it...oh God, goooooood..." He flipped him over again and thrusts through the last few waves, until his arms tremble, and it takes all the strength he could muster not to collapse, but lower himself next to John. He's in control, just barely. "Didn't tell me, John. Didn't talk to me."

"I´m s-sorry.." John gasped, trying to catch his breath, sweat glistening on his skin. "I forgot, I couldn't-" He tried to explain, looking up at Sherlock and shifting, causing the come in him leak out and he stilled flushing.

Sherlock's cock slipped out with a beautiful slick squelch, and three hard-knuckled fingers thrust into John as a warning, threatening, dancing around the edges of his prostate. "You know what happens when you forget, John?" He pressed a kiss, teasingly gentle, on John's collarbone. "Now...what are you going to do to make up for it?"

John threw his head back with a cry, fingers scraping and gripping tight on Sherlock's shoulders and body shaking with the teasing touches in him. Too much. Too little. More. Less. Johns mind was blown up, he couldn´t decide what he wanted. "W-what happens..?" He asked weakly, blinking and trying to get his eyesight back. "I d-don´t know what I´d do to make it up.."

Sherlock smirked, kissing John into dizziness again, spreading his fingers out before letting them slip down to stroke up his belly, pinching his nipples. "You're so sensitive, John," he whispered. "And I'll make sure every single nerve gets my attention - a lot of it. But you're tired now." He leaned back, leaving John straddling his lap and looking dazed. "So...tell me what you'll do to make it up now."

John breathed out unevenly, finally slumping on his side on the sheets beside Sherlock, feeling boneless and satisfied over the edge. "I...I don´t know what I would do.." He admitted silently, licking over his lips and swallowed, his throat all dry and fucked up. John was shivering at the dark promise in Sherlock voice. After all what had happened between them earlier that evening, he didn´t even thought about finding himself in the place he´s now, and he´s not complaining.

Sherlock skimmed his hands up his sides and tenderly brings John in. "You can start by kissing me," he whispered. John smiled, placing his hands against Sherlock's chest and leaned in pressing his lips against his softly, nibbling and teasing his bottom lip.

They're both tired, and Sherlock loved being kissed by John - he could be content just laying here with his mouth and cheeks being kissed. "John," he whispered, feeling the scar of his should pressing against his chest a bit. He wanted to see it. He could tell John likes it rough, then soft - the soft, freshly-fucked way he's kissing him let him know. "Let me see your scar."

John lifted his head up, meeting Sherlock's eyes. "I...I don´t feel comfortable with that topic.." The scar was ugly, he knew it because he had had to dig it out with a pocket knife himself. It spread on his shoulder as a huge bruise of dead skin, and John hated it.

Sherlock was gentle, but insistent as he pushed John down and gazed at the scar - it had been deep, he could tell. "Shot gun round," he whispered. "Widespread and obviously deep. But that's not collateral damage. Knife wounds, clean but dull." His eyes met John's. "You dug that out yourself. You were probably working on someone else at the same time, weren't you? Had to get it out." He leaned down and pressed his cheek to the scar, as though he's worshipping it. "You foolish man. Too brave for your own good."

Johns breath caught in his throat as Sherlock examined his wound. He could feel his face burning at the soft touches. "I had to get it out or it would have killed me...but I had to take care of my friend." He explained silently, hand sliding up in Sherlock's hair and caressing him gently.

Sherlock nuzzled into his neck. "Well thank God you did," he said. He tilted his head. "Why did you join the military?"  
>"I wanted to be able to help people. I killed only if I really had to, but mostly I took care of the wounded, I went to the field with them and healed the wounded. One day we got ambushed and..well. I was lucky to survive with this." John explained, his mind going back in that time. He could smell the blood and sweat, hear men shout and run towards the enemy line.<p>

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You could have been a brilliant doctor, but yet you choose to be an army doctor. Help less people that way - more die. Why did you really join?"  
>John swallowed staring at the roof. "I had a friend who was going there too. We were pretty much inseparable, so we decided to go there together."<p>

"An old boyfriend? No..." Sherlock leaned up. "You're lying John. I know why you went there."

"I´m not lying.." John protested, turning his head to meet Sherlock's eyes.

"I'm not talking about why you went to Afghanistan. Hero's soul, it's obvious." Sherlock leaned forward. "I'm talking about why you enlisted. University years."

"Oh." John blinked shifting under Sherlock's gaze. "I think that´s personal."

"I can see that." Sherlock tapped his fingers on John's chest. "You were trying to stamp out your budding sexuality. You've got a plain name, John Watson. Subconsciously, simple name yearns to make something of itself, or sits placidly. You've got a lesbian sister and an obvious family drinking problem, which, unfortunately, follows closely with a family being associated with military service. Rebellion often indicates it - common in the children of clergymen and law enforcement as well, nothing unusual. Although I don't believe that sexuality is a choice."

He's getting off topic, leaning even more forward.

"You obviously tried to go the opposite way, didn't get along with your sister or what she's done, decided to be a doctor. Surgeon would have been good, your hands are steady, but too large for something as intricate as daily surgery. Needed something to do where it was quick and charging - your life was less than exciting, having a life in your hands creates the rush, the pressure, gives you a feeling of pride, of well-deserved accomplishment, something to embrace.  
>Afghanistan rolls around - it's the perfect opportunity for you, but you've been enrolled long enough that you probably enlisted around university age - sexual awakening usually common around this time. Probably found yourself eyeing men around then, had to have it drilled in your head that you weren't really interested, just needed to surround yourself with masculinity, remind yourself that you're a man, drown in testosterone.<br>Joined to convince yourself of it, didn't work. Jumped on the bandwagon of war and indulged yourself. All those nights with the lads, all those sticky fumblings in the tents late at night, high on adrenaline, gives you the perfect opportunity to say you're just blowing off steam, when really you're just finding an excuse to vent your own desires, and yet here you are, where you tried to avoid. Invalided from war, scarred, making a name for yourself because of who you associate with, a gay man you're now lying in bed with, who knows everything, literally everything about you."

John stared at Sherlock, growing more irritated by seconds until he reached his peak and pushed himself up from the bed, his movements staggering a little. "You know what, you had no right to figure out all that, none. Those are my personal business Sherlock! Private! Too much is too much you know. Bloody hell..." John shook his head glaring at the man on his bed.

He's angry - Sherlock couldn't say he's surprised. "I'm right. On all counts." He propped himself up on one shoulder. "You have a lesbian sister - why are you so uncomfortable with your sexuality?"

"I´m not anymore, I used to be. I mean-" John stated crossing his arms across his chest with a frown, still pissed that Sherlock had been digging his deepest secrets.  
>Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be so angry right now, or call off everybody who calls us a couple if you were comfortable with the fact that you're gay. Now, tell me why. Is that why you and Harry don't get along?<p>

"No, it´s not because of that and it´s still not your business." He replied squirming under his gaze and turned around. "I think I´m going to take a shower." John said pointedly looking at himself, covered in sweat and them, flushed and walked in the bathroom pissed.

**Oh Sherlock, always ruining the moments with your brains -shakes head-  
>Please fav and review~<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

"If we're together, there are things we have to know." Sherlock had at some point risen to his feet and come to stand in the doorway. There's come smeared all over his stomach, but he doesn't seem to mind or care. He came forward and pushed the shower curtain over, stepping into the shower, despite the fact that John was obviously about to protest. "Move."

"And some things you don´t need to know." John replied and sighed moving over and giving Sherlock space to join him in the shower. It felt weird, the shower barely enough for the two of them to move around.

Sherlock, ignoring the look on John's face, gathered him close and pressed their foreheads together. "But you've got questions for me, I'm sure. You just never ask them." He gave him a squeeze. "I'll answer them. I promise."

John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the closeness suffocating and reassuring at the same time. "I´ll keep that in mind." He said silently, relaxing against him.

Sherlock pressed his lips to the side of John's neck. "There are things I don't think I want to guess," he said softly. He kissed a soft trail down to John's shoulder. "Ask me something. Something you really want to know."

John tilted his head, giving more space to Sherlock with a soft sigh. He hated it how fast this man made him weak for him. John lifted his hands and trailed them up Sherlock's back, swallowing thickly. "Us. What is this going to do between us? Are we going to wake in the morning and everything will be normal?" He asked quietly.

Sherlock looked a little crestfallen. "Do you...want to forget about it?" He'd do it if John wants him to - the whole act like everything's normal. But nothing's normal for them. Never has been.

John shook his head almost violently. "No, no, god no." How could Sherlock even think he wanted to forget it? So far this has been the best night of his life.

Sherlock kissed him, and it's deep and desperate and shockingly tender. "I don't either," he whispered. "I have no plans to forget this." He swept his hands up John's back, holding on to his shoulders and caressing whatever part he can. "I'd like to be your partner. Your...boyfriend, if you like the term." It sounded childish to him - a little endearing, but John needed to decide.

John looked up at him surprised, a teasing tune entering his voice. "Did I just hear great Sherlock Holmes using the word 'boyfriend?' He chuckled and his smile turned into a soft one. "I´d really like that. I don´t want anyone else, and defiantly anyone else touching you." John murmured pressing another kiss on his lips, coaxing them open and swept tongue in his mouth. A couple - that was what they were now.

Sherlock was full and deep in his kissing, alternating the roles - John took the reins, then he gently gathered them again, curling his tongue against the roof of John's mouth, water dripping from his brows and onto John's face. "You've got more questions," he murmured. "I can taste them."

John ignored how weird it sounded that Sherlock could taste his questions and pulled away panting, lifting his eyes to meet his. "You said I caught your interest because I´m not as dull as everyone else. Is that the only reason you want this?"

Sherlock knew that that's not it. It should be - his old self, his normal self wanted it to be so. But it's not true. "No," he said. "I want it because I need you." He's articulate, but he doesn't like the word coming out of his mouth - they made him sound...weak. "You...are my friend. My only friend, my deepest friend. I love you more than many things...more than Mycroft, more than Mrs Hudson at points...but...it's different. It's a different feeling, like you...complete me. You're my connection to the rest of the world. Does that answer?"

John blinked few times, staring at his eyes that seemed to avoid looking back at him. Sherlock was embarrassed, and he couldn´t help but smile at that. It was thrilling and interesting to see Sherlock at this state. "It answers more than I asked for." He replied softly, a hint of smile still on his lips. "I have you to know that that is how I feel about you. That´s why I got so hurt when I thought it was all an experiment."

"I'm cruel, John. You know that. But I don't try to be, especially not to you. Unless certain situations call for it...For instance..." He caressed John's backside and lifted him up slightly onto his toes, hearing him groan. "Little sore?"

"I´m not going to answer that question." John stated matter of factly, his eyes fixed on the wall before him. He did however nuzzle his face against Sherlock neck with a content sigh.

Sherlock brought his arms around to encircle John, enveloping him like he hasn't before. The intimate contact and John's sigh against his neck brought a delightful shiver to his skin, and he buried his face in John's shoulder. "I love holding you."

John let himself relax completely against him, pressing a small kiss above his pulse point and his eyes close. "I love it when you hold me."

"Don't go to the surgery tomorrow," Sherlock whispered. "I want you to stay here with me."

"I have to work, there´s bills to pay." John sighed.

"One sick day won't hurt you. People skip work all the time. Unless you're me."

John chuckled shaking his head. "I would be needed. What would we do all day here?" Sherlock's kiss was deep, toe-curling and promising. "Whatever you like."

"So I´m in charge now?" John asked with a lifted eyebrow, moaning into the kiss lowly.

"Never said that," Sherlock hummed, pressing his hips against John's so he's backed into the wall. "Suggestions are welcome for a limited time only."

"Oh?" John commented hissing as his back hit the cold wall. "And what is this time limit?"

"Til I get bored of waiting," Sherlock murmured. His hands had traveled to John's nipples, circling with both thumbs. "Guess how long that is?"

John gasped arching in the touch, eyes searching Sherlock's in a daze. "Five minutes?"

"Less." Sherlock dipped and left a sucking, biting kiss on John's collarbone. "Think maybe thirty seconds."

"That´s not nearly enough-" John murmured tilting his head back, letting it hit the wall.

"Twenty five," Sherlock murmured, taking a nipple between his lips. "Time's slipping away, John. Maybe I'll make it forty-five, just for you. Maybe even a whole minute, I know thinking with your cock in my mouth is difficult work."

"You´re making this hard for me." John breathed out clawing on the wall helplessly.

Sherlock had dropped gracefully to his knees, pressing a kiss just above John's half-hard cock. "I can make it harder." He's got his hands on John's hips, pressing them into the wall. "Staying home tomorrow? Or will you leave me here to mope?"

"Why would you mope?" He asked staring down at Sherlock, licking over his lips nervously. "I-I`m trying to think here Sherlock-"

"Because I won't have you in my bed to do with whatever I please," Sherlock whispered. "And if Lestrade calls, I won't have you to drag on an adventure with. I won't get to entertain the idea of another quickie in an alleyway with you. You'll be off treating colds and the flu and come home tired and I'll be so upset that I'll have to fuck you into the mattress so you're too sore to go to work the next day." He grazed the tip of his finger along the underside of John's cock, and it stiffened in front of him.

John let out a helpless whimper, his eyes closing as the images flashed in his mind, making his whole body tremble with want. He hadn´t known he could be so sexually active before this day. "-But human health depends on us doctors." He protested weakly.

"Human sanity also depends on release," Sherlock whispered. His breath was a hot ghost that splashed over John's cock. "Keep it in and your mind begins to deteriorate." His mouth was poised over the head, teasing and taunting, tongue flicking out to taste the tip.

John swallowed staring at the roof panting heavily. "I can´t think of anything.." He mumbled silently, trying to think, he really tried but all the thoughts pretty much fled his head when Sherlock knelt before him.

"Pity," Sherlock sighed. "Guess I'm just going to have to suck you into submission, then." And he dove down, deep-throating at once, down to the root - then pulled back completely, sucking hard on the tip, then let go. "Do you want to play this game?"

John gasped out, his jaw hanging low as he tried to muster words, sound, anything at all, but nothing could be heard. White pleasure washed over his body so suddenly it left him aching and feeling like he´d fall on the floor any minute. "G-Game? What game?"

"The game where I have to tempt you to an inch of your sanity, then suck you down and fuck you in this shower until you can't see straight. Then flip you over and ride you like you rode me. See how the old Captain feels about switching roles." Sherlock stroked his cock and moved to take his balls into his mouth, sucking and licking and pressing a knuckle behind to massage and bring John's hips into a semi-rocking motion. "The game where I wring you dry so you have no hope of at least remembering what you're coming home to if you decide to go in tomorrow."

"It´s my work.." John tried quietly, slamming a fist in his mouth to prevent a moan from escaping. His hips moved in own accord, thrusting in Sherlock's mouth and his eyes squeezed shut at the warm, wet sensation it gave him. His whole body shivered at the thought of reversing roles, the thought of Sherlock riding him back arching and head thrown back making him whimper against his knuckles.

Sherlock sunk a finger to the second knuckle inside him, curling it instantly, licking from root to tip and then swallowing him down again. He's such a tease, and he knew it, adding a second finger and finding John's prostate, instantly beginning to massage it. He moaned around John's cock and gazed up at him, eyes hooded. He'd be smirking if his mouth weren't full.

"Jesus fucking christ!" John all but screamed out, fingers gripping into his hair and holding on tightly, his world making a 360 loop before his eyes. The sparks inside him, the way that Sherlock kept pressing against that over-stimulated spot in him made his knees buckle and he fought the gravity to stay up. Then he made the mistake to look down and meet those dark, hungry eyes and keened.

"What's wrong, John?" Sherlock crooned, licking up the crease of his groin and inner thigh. "Too much for you?" He added a third finger, gripping the base of John's cock to keep him from coming, and flexed all three. He loved it - it's not that he's sadistic, it's that John loved the pain, the pleasure, the thigh-quivering ecstasy that made him see stars. "Wondering what I'd look like on the receiving end?"

"Never too much." John managed to choke out, scrambling for purchase of the showerhead. He thought about sliding on the floor, his legs were trembling almost violently, but that would mean Sherlock would pull out of him and he didn´t want that either. "You´d look beautiful on me, riding me with such urgently." He whispered placing his hand on top of Sherlock's that was wrapped around him and tried to move it away.

"Mmm...how would it feel, John?" Sherlock spread his fingers inside John, splaying the others against his hip, stroking him off in quick, hard jerks. "Would you still wish for me inside you? What would you give to fuck and be fucked at the same time?"

John moaned out loudly, arching his back from the wall and thrusting in Sherlock's hand with gritted teeth. "How did you...think you´d manage to do that?" He asked between heavy pants.

Sherlock hadn't disclosed this, but...he nicked a few things from The Woman. "Few souvenirs. Courtesy of Miss Adler," he said, winking up at John. "Including..." His eyes narrow as he realized John hadn't protested the idea. "Would you like that John? Would you like to fill and be filled at the same time?"

"Irene?" John asked surprised and confused. The woman had been a whacko to put it straight and like they had talked, he didn´t like her. "What on earth did you take from her?" He asked more curious now, avoiding the last question.

Sherlock was smirking now, positively devilish, and he slunk back up, letting his fingers slip out to stroke John against his own hardening cock. "A certain...device." He kissed John very gently, opening his mouth and grinned. "That...may substitute. And aid."

"A device?" John asked weakly against his lips, running his tongue against them. "Do I even want to know…you´ll tell it anyway. What is it?"

"A vibrator." Sherlock said it so matter-of-factly, but he's practically crowing on the inside. "Technically just a very realistic dildo, but...with a few enhancements." A few is a bad word to use. He's used it once himself, and thoroughly enjoyed the idea of riding John, every bouncing thrust driving the dildo deeper inside John's ass...ohhhh, he couldn't think about that right now, he'd come right on the spot.

John licked his lips and thought about the idea. " A vibrator...never used one before." He stated turning his head slightly. He was thrilled and nervous at the same time about the idea of using it, but it couldn´t hurt, right?

"Oh John..." Sherlock's pupils widen, and it's obvious he's remembering his experience. "Come..." He turned off the water and, still holding onto John's cock, leads him, kissing all the way, back to Sherlock's bedroom. He pushed John back on the bed, not even bothering to dry their bodies, kissed him, and went to his dresser, reaching underneath a certain pair of socks, and pulled out the vibrator. It's no bigger than Sherlock is himself, made of silicon and very realistic, but it has a cord that leads to a remote for adjusting speed, pulsing, intensity... "Here. Feel it."

John took the toy hesitantly, twirling it in his hands. He noticed the cord and examined it curiously, leaving it be soon enough and tested the thickness and length with his fingers. It did feel realistic indeed and he found his mouth go dry at the thought of being filled and filling Sherlock at the same time. "It doesn´t look bad."

Sherlock clicked it to life. It's on the lowest setting, but still...the vibration is strong, and with John so sensitive, he knew it'll be something to play with. "Not bad at all." He smiled. "Want to try it?"

John almost dropped the toy when it started to shake in his hands. "I guess I could give it a try." He agreed handing the toy to Sherlock and settling more comfortable on the bed.

Sherlock was gentle as he kissed John, for once not going directly down. He'll have plenty of time to do so later. For now, he turned it on the lowest setting and skimmed it over different sensitive parts of his body, his nipples, his side, his belly, the crease of his inner thigh... "See? Not so bad."

John squirmed on the bed, a surprised laughter escaping his lips. "It tickles!" He released a groan as he skimmed the toy over his nipples and realized that it indeed didn´t feel so bad like this.

Sherlock turned it off, taking a moment to have John watch him wrap his lips around the tip, slide it into his mouth, sucking it as he had John barely minutes ago. He groaned and he does so, looking directly at the doctor - he could see the arousal, see the twitch of his cock below him. He slicked the toy with his saliva as best he can, came to press against John's hole, still slick with spit and lube and Sherlock's come. "Ready?"

Johns eyes had probably turned three shades darker, watching Sherlock play with the toy and making his body tingle with antipaction. He breathed deeply and nodded his head, wriggling on his place. "Yes, do it Sherlock."

Sherlock slipped it inside in one stroke - it's no different from his own cock, which John has gotten used to in barely a few hours. He thrusted it gently, angling up - John shuddered, and he grinned. "Good...now..." He turned it on to the lowest setting and twisted it about inside John, so he felt every single vibration along every single inch.

"Oh fuck-" John breathed out twisting on the bed, breathing out shuddering as the toy were vibrating in him. It felt weird, almost alien and still so good at the same time. Different but spreading pleasure in him.

"Too much?" Sherlock murmured, but even as he did so, he pressed upward, touching what he knows is John's prostate and teasingly rubbing back and forth. "You still want me?"

"Didn´t I say that it´s never too much?" John asked with a lopsided grin, gasping and arching from the bed when the toy was angled in him.

Sherlock straddled him, remote in hand, and he grinned down at John, cranking it up to the next level, grabbing John's hand and sucking his fingers into his mouth. "Then you get to prepare me," he whispered.

John let out a whimper of surprise as the vibrating in him increased, moaning lowly at the way Sherlock was sucking on his fingers. "Yeah, yeah I´ll do that."

Sherlock was playful now that he knows John's getting used to it. He leaned forward and guided John's spit-slicked fingers between his legs. "Then do it," he whispered. "And if you don't do it right..." He grinded down on John's hips, pressing the vibrator almost too hard against the gland inside with his weight. "Well...you know what I'm capable of."

"You can do it wrong?" John asked breaking off in a moan at the sudden added pressure in him, licking over his lips. He was thinking about the possibilities to be wrong or right, as he circled around the hole, loosening the muscles before pushing a finger in him.

"You know me," Sherlock whispered, sighing as he felt John begin to explore. "I'm the one who's always right. Now...if it's not how I like it, it's wrong. So..." He sat up, impaling himself on John's finger. "Hope you don't just see, but observe, this time." That first finger was lovely, and he moaned a bit. "See? Like that."

John nodded wordlessly, swallowing as he pulled his finger back out and pushed it back in hard, giving it a twist on the end and gauged Sherlock's reactions observing.

"Hnng...yes. Like that. More. More fingers." Sherlock played with the dial on the remote, gazing at John from under hooded eyelids, his cock drooling on John's belly. "Find it...find my good spot..."

John grinned at the babbling Sherlock made, pushing another finger next to the other as hard as the first one, twisting them around and thanks to his medical experience, pressed right against Sherlock's prostate hard.

Sherlock threw his head back with a whimpering cry, momentarily cranking the vibrator all the way up to full and rocked against John's hips, driving it deeper and firmer into him. "Yes...yes, John, yes! Oh...more fingers, I need more." He eased the vibrator down to almost nothing, a tease for John who's just had a taste of the real thing.

John pretty much flew up from the bed as Sherlock turned it on full speed and let out a strangled cry, momentary forgetting to move his fingers. He was sure stars were exploding before his eyes before Sherlock eased it down again and he was left panting and aching for more as he added the third finger, scissoring and pumping them in him steadily.

Sherlock trembled on top of him, feeling his fingers spreading and stretching him, and suddenly, he doesn't need anymore, he needs John, he needs John's cock inside him, he hasn't been taken in years. "That's enough, that's enough!" he said hurriedly, swiping John's hand away and gripping his cock to line John up. "Touch me, I haven't done this in a while." He started to sink down, his thumb poised on the dial of the remote, ready to spike or stop the intensity at any moment.

Johns eyes flew open as Sherlock started to slowly lower himself on him, the feeling of tight muscles giving way for his cock almost too much and he bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood. His hands found their way on Sherlock's cock and obiedly thumbed the head, sliding back down and up the length, forming a tight ring of his fingers and used it to stroke him.

Not too hard, don't want me to come yet." Sherlock spiked the intensity for a heartbeat as a warning, then lowered it as his weight settles in the cradle of John's hips. John's knees were bent, his warm thighs supporting him from behind, and he rocked forward once bending down and kiss him, causing the little slide to press John's cock a little more forward. It's a less painful angle, and he sighs in relief. "Mmm...good. Better." He dialed up the toy a bit, propping himself on John's chest with his hands. "Ready?"

John took in a steady breath to prevent himself coming right there and then. The tight heat around him didn´t help much, or the toy in him which was turned up again; John noticed with a low moan and shaky nod. "Move, god move Sherlock."

Sherlock did so, tipping back and moaned like he never has before - it's a mid-pitched, keening sound that came from somewhere deep, deep inside. "Oh John...you're...so much bigger than I thought..." He quivered as he lifted himself up, coming down with almost cruel force, hard and short and harsh. But it's a delicious way to ride, and he continued, knowing that each rocking drop of his hips pressed the dildo right against John's prostate, and he wished at the same time that he'd brought a cockring, just to play with. "Well John," he panted, his voice unsteady, "how does it feel? To fuck and be fucked? What does it feel like?"

John chuckled darkly, moving his hips up to thrust in Sherlock every time he dropped back down. "I´ll..take that as a compliment.." He gritted out, writhing slightly on the bed as the dildo started to press against his sweet spot every time Sherlock dropped on his cock, making him throw his head back in pleasure and small string of saliva fall from the corner of his mouth. "It´s...so good...so so good..." John had never felt so full in his life.

Sherlock grinded harder. "Does it, John? Does it really?" He cranked up the intensity again, it's halfway there, but combined with his movement, he could only imagine what John's feeling, oversensitized and fucking and being fucked all at once. He moved his hands to thumb John's nipples, the remote laying across his thigh. He's a cruel bastard, that's for sure. And it wouldn't work with anyone but John.

"Y-yes!" John practically shouted out as Sherlock increased the speed again, making him tremble and sparks fly before his eyes. He was so sensitive, so completely fucked up and he still yearned for more. He wanted to see Sherlock lose it completely. Ignoring the toy in him the best he could, he started to pound up in him on his earnest, grabbing his hand and with a look at Sherlock, slid two of his fingers in his mouth. Johns eyes slid close again as he moaned around the fingers, sucking on them and rhythmically pumping them in and out of his mouth.

Sherlock was a sucker for finger sucking. He's astonished that John'd figured it out, either that or it's just a lucky guess, but he's being more aggressive now, and it's causing the upward thrusts in him to spike adrenaline laced endorphin levels to the point that they may fry his brain. John has never looked so...delicious. That's the only way he could describe it, and it's hands down one of the hottest things he's seen in his life. "Oh...oh God, John!" John was fucking him so well, and he's blown away by the fact that he could move like that with a seven inch vibrating dildo buried inside him. "Hnn...hnn, almost there! God, yes, harder, please!" He flipped the switch to full speed and _rode_ John like it's the last orgasm he'll ever have in his life.

John had a moment of triumphant feeling, enjoying the way Sherlock started to break in pieces above him. That was before the toy in him was hit on the full speed, making him shout out and bite on the fingers, his back arching high from the bed and legs trembling. On top of that (literally) Sherlock was moving faster and harder, making John push in him and brush past his prostate again. He tried to concerate on sucking the fingers pleased by the fact he found a weak spot of Sherlock's.

"John," Sherlock huffed, and his eyes were so blazingly intense, it was almost frightening. "I'm going to make you come now." He snapped his hips forward at an almost frightening angle, and it sunk John's hips so hard on the dildo, it had to be overstimulation. He snatched back his own spit-slicked and bitten fingers and started stroking his cock, making sure John watched as the head drooled pre-come, his lips reddened with kissing and biting, and then he's clenching on John, about to come, but no, he has to be next, he has to make John come -first-...

"O-oh god-" John panted his eyes fixed on Sherlock's hand and the head of his cock that peeked under his hand every now and then. He gritted his teeth hard together, hard enough to hurt as the release sneaked at him so fast and sudden it made him shout out, his heels digging into the mattress as he came deep inside Sherlock, the stimulating inside him just making it so much more intense and powerful that a tear slipped down his chin. Too fast, too hard, too strong. It was too much and John was on the edge of blacking out as he gasped for breath his heart hammering in his chest.

Sherlock threw his head back and let out a moaning cry as John exploded inside him, the sound dwindling to a dying whimper as he came, clenching around a still bucking John, and there's pain and pleasure and sweat and the hot, quivering skin on his thighs cradling John's waist, and John's practically crying in climax, and Sherlock ground down and watched his own come splatter all over John's chest, feeling the vibration through John's pelvic bone. "Mercy?" he whispered. "Y-you...want me to beg..?" John asked breathlessly, panting and staring at the roof with lust blown eyes, trembling on the bed of the overstimulation.

Sherlock grabbed him by the hair and hissed directly in his ear with piercing ferocity, "Yes. Beg for it."

John gasped snapping his eyes wide open and met Sherlock's eyes dead on. The soldier in him took control quickly as he shook his head firmly. "Never. Gonna. Happen."

Sherlock dropped his weight with sudden coldness and by god, he could feel the vibrations through skin and bone and sinew and through John's cock in his ass. It's directly on that spot, and he's so oversensitized, he knew John wouldn't last. "I'll make you come again. I'll make you come again in thirty seconds, John Watson, unless you beg for it."

John licked over his lips and stood his ground. There´d be no way to do that in 30 seconds, right? Besides, this was sort of a powerplay right now. He shook his head again with a smirk. "No. Why would I beg?"

"Because I get to fuck you however I want." Sherlock pulled off of John, flipping him over and positively fucked him with the toy, angling it so harshly that in a normal state he'd start to doubt the thought of this being a good idea. "Twenty eight, twenty seven, twenty six..." He continued in his head. "Don't make me break my record, John, I've done it before."

"Not..giving up-" John panted gritting his teeth together, his fists clenching on the sheets as his back arched with a high moan. It was on edge of pleasure and pain and it just added on the sensations driving his body and mind insane.

Sherlock wished for a moment he had more control of his body, wished he could will himself hard again - he pulled the vibrator out, replacing it with three fingers, teasing with four. "Don't make me see how many fingers you can take, John."

John felt a shiver rock through his body and he fell against his hands on the bed gasping. "A..a challenge?"

"Everything will be a challenge with me, John. Every time I take you to bed, expect a challenge." Sherlock drove his fingers to John's prostate and pressed hard. "Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen..."

John opened his mouth, but managed to get out only a weak whimper. He hit his forehead against the sheets, fighting for breath as his whole body felt like burning up, trembling, shaking and every nerve in his body singing.

"Touch yourself," Sherlock whispered against the curve of John's ass, now kissing the spot where his fingers kept thrusting. "Now I'm begging you, John Watson. I need to see you come again. Need to see how good I can fuck you." He curled his fingers and dragged them back and forth inside him. "Ten."

"Christ-" John was sure his world spun before his eyes as he slid his hand down his own body and grabbed his already leaking cock, teasing the tip and throwing his head back with a cry.

"Six...oh John, you're so beautiful, are you coming? God, I can feel it, can feel you coming..." Sherlock bit a beautiful cheek, nails raking down John's back, thrusting forward one last time. "Come John, just one more time..."

"Can't...I can't-" John gasped desperately, it was all so intense and he had lost count how many times he had come already. Five? Six? And still Sherlock could make him hard in less than a minute, make him on the edge of coming in five.

Sherlock pulled his fingers out and dove down with tongue, licking in and out and devouring John for all he's worth. He could do it, he knew he could, he's got one more in him, even if it means he'll blackout, he doesn't care, he needs it, he -needs- it...

John cried out breathlessly, it was barely audible as his body seized up once again as release washed over him hard enough to knock himself off his feet..if he would have been standing. Gasping for breath, gripping the sheets with white knuckles and feeling like his body would never work again, feeling like he could never ever grow even aroused he fell limp on the bed and darkness took over him.

Sherlock came surprised after John, without even having laid a finger on himself, so enthralled by the fact that John, dear, dear John is so good at following orders...oh god. Oh god, yes, he's whimpering and his legs doesn't work, and he's sure he'd be reduced to a pile of barely recognizable goo had he been a normal person. He struggled, but managed to haul himself up on the bed to a slightly sobbing John, instantly pulling him close. "John, oh John...yes. That was so beautiful. You're so beautiful John. I love you so." He grinned to himself, knowing just how sore John would be tomorrow. "Did I...convince you to play hooky?"

John snuggled his face immediately against Sherlock's chest. His whole body was still trembling violently but he managed to pull up a grin. "No. I still have to work Sherlock. We have bills to pay."

Sherlock let out a groan. "You have _got_ to be kidding me." He looked down at John and eyed him with a half-exasperated, half-mischievous expression. "Guess I'll just have to punish you tomorrow."

"Oh god." John exclaimed with a sigh, his eyes dropping close. "I´m too tired to think. I feel like I could sleep for weeks without waking up. He turned on the bed and set his alarm clock, groaning as he flopped back next to Sherlock. "I have to be up in five hours. How on earth am I supposed to have enough energy to work?"

The detective snickered, spooning up behind John and held him close. "Beats me. Could stay home." He nipped John's ear, settling in. "At least I'll be up for a lay in in the morning."

John snorted with a smile on his face. "I bet you are. But i need to go, but I´ll be back home at the usual time. Or maybe earlier since I don´t need to flirt with anyone..right?" He finished with a smirk.

Sherlock growled playfully. "That'd better be the case." He smirked, kissed John a last time, and settled in for sleep.

John hummed smiling to himself and nuzzled deeper in the pillow. A lot had happened in just one day and he could hardly wait for the days to come. With the thoughts like that John drifted in a peacefull dream.

**And that´s it folks! Thank you all for reviews and favourites, I love you all 3 However, I do have a treat for you. I´ve started an one-shot sequel, where Sherlock punishes John for going to work after all (includes phonesex, more toys and orgasm denial *innocent whistle*)  
>Review and let me know if I should publish it ;3<strong>


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